


Live to Breath Another Day

by John_lzhc



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angry Sex, Community: eleventy_kink, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-21
Updated: 2012-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-31 13:13:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_lzhc/pseuds/John_lzhc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angry, desperate, almost-died sex, bent over the TARDIS console, with added snark.</p><p>This fic in no way advocates unprotected sex with semi-stranger maybe-spouses from the future that may or may not be destined to kill you. Be risk aware, and use condoms (or dams, femidoms, ect).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Live to Breath Another Day

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [spike_1790](http://spike-1790.livejournal.com/) who beta'ed.

“Let's go to Tokyo, you said.” River mutters as they skulk through the dingy corridors of Starship Japan, on the run from angry catering staff.

“Shut up River,” he hisses.

“Tokyo Tower on Starship Japan, you said. You knew _exactly_ where we were, and you went on a rant about how great English junk food is.”

“I only said they should have had fish fingers.” The Doctor snaps, glancing quickly round a corner.

“Doctor, it was a neo-Japanese sashimi restaurant with three Michelin stars. Couldn't you have said something less inflammatory? Called the host's mother a prostitute, for example?”

“Why would I need to when you did it for me?”

“I said he was the son of a whore, I didn't actually specify his mother.”

“And yet _that_ was when he called the bouncers on us.” He hears a muffled boom in the distance, followed by a clatter that sounds suspiciously like a locked door being blown of it's hinges. “Ah, speaking off...”

“Run?” She asks.

He grins like a lunatic.

“Don't we always?”

So they run. Run as fast as they can, pelting down corridors at breakneck speed and vaulting stair-rails, but their pursuers have bikes. Bikes and guns. River's wearing a tight, slinky little thing with nowhere to hide a gun, and what's the Doctor going to do, put shelves up at them? They'll be lucky to make it back to the TARDIS alive.

They survive, of course. It'll take more than heavily armed restaurant door staff to take them down. But they're singed and bloody, River turned an ankle on a floor grating- damned heals - and the Doctor's jacket is thick with engine oil. They belt through the door, jostling each other up the ramp to the console, running around like mad things to launch her off into the vortex despite each other's help.

“Well, that was an excitement!” the Doctor says as the background buzz settles into a soft hum. 

“Yes, better chalk up another nation we can't go back to. It's what I look for in a date, you know. Arrest warrants.” River snaps acidly. 

“Oh you love it.” the Doctor smirks, tugging his soiled jacket off and flinging it over a rail to dispose of later. He fishes a handkerchief out of his pocket and starts mopping off his hair.

River opens her mouth to shout back, vent the post-adrenalin anger she feels draining in to replace the thrill of the chase. But he's got that look on, like he's not really listening to anything without a visibly fizzing fuse. So she slaps him, hard, just to get his attention.

“Ow! That hurt!” 

“I could do it harder!”

“I'm sure you could!” He looks startled and confused, but there's anger in there too.

She pulls her hand to slap him again, drive her point home, but he knows she's cross now. He's ready for it, catches her mid-swing and _tugs_ , pulls her off balance and twists her arm up her back, locks it there. She doesn't try to pull away; she's taught him well and he's got a good hold on her. She pushes back instead, rubs up against him, trapping her arm against his chest and her shoulders, arching her back to thrust her hips against his groin. She's _good_ at unconventional warfare.

“Why, Doctor Song, I think you're trying to distract me.” He murmurs in her ear.

“Is it working?”

He hisses through his teeth, and pushes her forwards against the console, trapping her as he grinds against her.

“You tell me, River.”

“I think it is.”

“You're very good.”

“They trained me so well.” She teases. It's harsh, she knows, he still feels guilty for her upbringing.

“My own, libidinous psychopath.”

She pauses.

“I am, you know.”

“Mine?” He's tentative, not sure what answer he wants, what will send him – metaphorically - running.

“ _Libidinous_ ” She qualifies.

“I bet you are, you bad, bad girl.” He laughs, only partly from relief, and leans back to release her arm, but he puts both of his around her body, runs them over her breasts and starts groping blindly. “Love the danger, don't you? Knowing a whole planet's after you and this might be it. It excites you.”

“I am libidinous because I'm pinned to the console. Quite literally pinned.” She grinds her hips back to punctuate her point.

“You love it.” He starts kissing her neck, nuzzling through her curls. She grips the edge of the console as his hands get to grips with what they're doing to her chest, squeezing and cupping and pinching her nipples.

“Spoilers.” She whispers.

“If I hear that word one more time today...”

“Spoil-”

One hand whips up and clamps over her mouth, cutting her off. He pulls her head back, offering up bare skin, and licks and sucks at the junction of her neck and shoulder, biting red bruises into her flesh. His other hand fumbles with the decorative clasp of her dress, tugging it open to push his hand under the fabric to cup her breast through her lacy bra.

River bites the Doctor's fingers, hard as she can, makes him hiss against her skin. Her left hand snakes back between them, squeezes his swelling erection through his trousers as her right hand drops between her legs and she starts rubbing herself through the silky folds of her skirt.

Satisfied with the mark on her neck, the Doctor pulls his hands out of her mouth, her dress, and pushes her down, bending her over the console. Her hands shoot forwards to support her weight.  
He leans over her and gropes up the front of her thigh, pulling up her skirt to squeeze her through her knickers. She's deliciously wet.

“Get on with it!” She hisses, and he doesn't need telling twice. He tugs her skirt up to her waist and pulls her knickers down just enough to bare her bottom and the tops of her thighs, just enough to push his fingers in between her legs and rub her labia, flick her clitoris.

He unzips with shaking fingers, pushes his boxers down and frees his throbbing cock. The cool air of the TARDIS is a shock. Leaning forwards, he pushes the head against River's vulva, smearing her with pre-come, mixing them up, marking her. River pushes her legs apart as far as the strained lace of her underwear allows, part invitation part command.

He lines up against her and presses in till just just his glans are inside her. She cants her hips up, giving him the angle, and he grabs her hips and _thrusts_. River shouts out and clenches around him. He doesn't wait for her to relax, just grabs her hips and starts pounding. She's hot and slick and he thinks he can feel her _pulse_ , because she's just as wired as he is, pushing back against him and grunting as skin hits skin.

He tries to set a steady pace, but he's too far gone as he ruts up against her, was too far gone before he touched her. It's not about sex, not now, or the joining. It's not about her, although there's no one else he'll trust to undo him like this (no one else he'll ever trust to lean their weight over the console and not touch anything sensitive, breakable, to remember how it all works even through the haze of lust). It's not even about getting off any more, they're past that, and it's just movement and pushing, stale adrenalin, primal instincts and the echoes of _oh god oh fuck we're going to die_.

He's so lost in her, in her heat and in her gasps, it almost comes as a surprise when his balls tighten up and he comes, suddenly, riding the contractions to completion with stuttering thrusts. Breathless, he collapses forwards against her back, kissing the cruel red mark on her neck and berrying his face in her hair.

River pushes back, pushing him off a little as she shifts her weight onto one arm, freeing up her right hand to bury down between her legs and rub herself off in frantic, shuddering circles. She comes with a strangled gasp, body clenching in rhythm with her fingers. The Doctor feels her contract around him, pushing his own ejaculate out around his softening cock to drip slowly down his balls and onto her knickers.

Finally, her fingers still and the spasms in her vulva die down. She leans back against him, and he wraps his arms around her, holding her up even as he leans on her for support. Around them, the TARDIS hums, air still moves in their lungs, and they are alive.

**[END]**


End file.
